The soft hiss of steam and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables filled the kitchen, a gentle counterpoint to the rain’s quiet patter outside. The warmth of the room wrapped around Aarya like a comforting blanket, making the dampness of her clothes seem like a distant memory.

Hiten moved with quiet precision, stirring sauces and checking the stove, occasionally glancing at her as though gauging her comfort. Aarya found herself stealing glances in return, noticing small, almost imperceptible details—the slight crease of concentration on his forehead, the way he flexed his fingers as he worked, and the casual tilt of his head when he caught her staring.

“Do you like tea?” he asked suddenly, breaking the soft silence.

“Yes,” she replied, a little shyly. Her hands were still wrapped around the warm cup he had handed her earlier, but she lifted them instinctively, drawing in the faint scent of tea leaves and warmth.

“Good. I’ll make it strong, then,” he said with a faint smile, moving to the counter. The casual tone contrasted with the intensity of his gaze, making her heart flutter unexpectedly.

She watched him, curiosity mingling with a strange tension she couldn’t name. There was something steady about him, something protective, yet mysterious. It pulled at her, drawing her closer, though she remained cautiously aware of her own boundaries.

“So… you’re a student too?” she ventured, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah,” he replied, stirring the pasta sauce with careful movements. “Greenwood High.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait… really? Which class?”

“Class 9, Section B,” he said casually.

She bit her lip, thinking quickly. “We haven’t met before?”

“Probably in different sections,” he said lightly, as if it explained everything.

The word “probably” carried an odd comfort, a small bridge between them. She felt a flicker of warmth at the word “friend” unspoken, implied in the ease of conversation. Slowly, she began to relax, letting small smiles slip past her guarded expression.

Hiten poured her a fresh cup of tea, the steam curling in delicate tendrils. “Drink this. It’ll help you warm up,” he said. She accepted it, holding the cup close to her chest. The heat seeped into her palms and further into her racing heart.

Minutes passed with easy conversation—questions about school, favorite subjects, small quirks about each other. Each shared detail, each small laugh, built an invisible thread between them, strengthening the unspoken connection that had begun when he first reached for her hand in the rain.

Aarya felt a sudden urge to ask something—something important, something that had been pressing at the back of her mind—but the words faltered. Her voice stuck in her throat, the tension inside her building.

Hiten noticed her hesitation and tilted his head slightly, a soft, knowing look in his eyes. He didn’t push, didn’t prod. He simply moved with quiet grace, letting her take her time, giving her space while remaining present. The gentle attentiveness made her feel both exposed and cared for in a way she hadn’t expected.

She took a slow breath, sipping her tea. The warmth wasn’t just physical; it seemed to seep into her chest, calming the fluttering anxiety that had been there since the storm began. She realized with a jolt how strange it was to feel this safe, this curious, and this drawn to someone she had just met.

Outside, the rain softened into a gentle drizzle, the storm no longer threatening, but the tension between them remained—a quiet, growing current pulling them closer. Every glance, every small gesture, seemed charged with possibility.

Every glance, every small gesture seemed to mean more than words could say. Click Next to see what happens next?